


Beautiful Patterns of Their Lives

by Raygirl



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raygirl/pseuds/Raygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Contains spoilers for Ghost Trick ending*</p><p>A series of short stories post new timeline showing snapshots of Sissel's life with the rest of the cast.  Each chapter will feature a different cast member giving insight into their relationship with him and what effect he has had on their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alma

Chapter 1: Alma

There are some things in life you have to surrender when becoming a parent, it is part of the deal when bringing new life into the world. Most of the time it is luxurious or selfish things; things that you have to learn to go without because the child should be the focus of your life. A fancy car made only for two, long exotic holidays, hobbies and activities that require a lot of alone time, all things that have to change when a child comes along. It is a worthy sacrifice to ensure that a child is happy and loved.

And then there are the things you have to surrender because you are no longer the child yourself. Childish views, childish emotions, childish fears. The fears especially; You must be the one to check for the boogieman under the stairs, deal with the spiders in the bath or climb the tall tree to free the stranded kite. A child must feel that they can rely on their parents to be strong and brave for them, and they in turn will learn not to be afraid. 

Which is why on this dark evening with the rain battering the windows and the wind howling in through any crack or cranny Alma was a little glad that she was alone, if only to be alone with her fears.

She tucked her feet up closer to her body as a flash outside alerted her, and coiled up tighter at the threatening rumble which followed it. The book she had been trying (and failing) to read pressed close against her chest, her tiny occupied corner of the couch surrounded by pillows acting as a haphazard fortress. The ominous sound rolled away leaving a dull silence which slowly filled with the sounds of nature and the familiar sounds of home. The ticking of the clock, the rattle of the windows, the hum of the heating system. But even then she knew another rumble could come at any moment from the angry sky above.

So silly...a fully grown, professional woman like her afraid of thunder, a completely natural phenomenon. And yet here she was completely frozen in place by the heavens rumbling above. She thought by now she would have matured out of this. Being alone in the house suddenly reminded her that she hadn't, that before she had relied on the strength and warmth of her family to comfort her. She played the kindly hero to her daughter, tucking her in while the storm raged and telling her 'not to be afraid', only to then snuggle in the safety of her husbands arms trying her hardest not to flinch for fear of waking him and revealing her shame.

Of course Jowd knew about it. The title of Greatest Detective on the force didn't stop at the office. He had known since before they were married, in those early days he had even joked about it. But as the years passed the jokes faded and he remained stoic in caring for her when she faltered. He held her close, covered her ears with his large, warm hands to block the sound, whispered comforting words she did not even realise he was capable of. It was a side of him that she adored, a side so rarely shown to anyone, and yet the fact he had to show it to her made he feel ashamed of her dependency on it.

Another crack of thunder jolted her out of her thoughts and she let out an involuntary whimper. That one was close. She swore she could feel the electricity crackling over her skin and raising the hairs on her arms; she hugged herself, the book in her hands forgotten.

When Kamila was born she made a vow to put her daughter first, forcing back her gut reaction to flee into Jowd's arms at the first rumble of thunder. It would have taught Kamila to be afraid, and that was wrong. So they sung songs over the rumbling and watched the brutal shards of light scatter across the sky from the safety of a bedroom window, all three together. And after a while Alma convinced herself that she was no longer afraid, that the thing which had tormented her as a child was gone. She had done it! She had beaten her fears!

She had been naive. Now with Jowd off at a conference and Kamila away at a sleepover the house was too quiet and the anger of the skies echoed around the house. No jolly songs could cover it alone, and she dared not look out through the curtains.

She wondered how Kamila was doing. Was she scared? Probably not. Unlike her mother the little girl was fearless and curious. She wanted to know how the sky made lightning, why it made such a brilliant noise and display. Even now she could be enthralling her friends with her bright mind, drawing them in with the passion and energy that Alma loved about her.

Suddenly she was jolted from her revere as something touched her leg, and bolted her head upright from where she had laid it on her knees. Coming face to face with two large yellow eyes it took her a second to process what she was looking it.

"Oh! Sissel." She sighed with relief. Carefully she unraveled from the tight ball she had been sitting in, their little black cat neatly shifting to accommodate the changing form below his feet. Finally when Alma has gotten into a more comfortable pose he stepped daintily into her lap, turning a couple of times before dropping down. He looked up at her, those bright eyes staring their unwavering stare into hers. 

"What's the matter boy, are you scared too?" Alma asked as the reached up to stroke his silky black head. Of course the cat didn't answer, but continued to watch her intently bobbing his head in time with her hand until he started purring.

Sissel was an odd little thing, Alma thought to herself as she smoothed down the fur along his spine. When Jowd had brought him home all those years ago he had been a weak and grubby stray that lay limply in her huband's hands. Naturally her heart had gone out to the dear little thing and the idea of him being allowed to stay was never questioned. The Jowd home always welcomed those who needed a family's love.

Within hours he had sprung back to life and wormed his way into their routine as if he had always been there. He was endearing and sociable, always wanting to be around people be it scampering underfoot or observing a room from the top of a cupboard. His feline chirps and calls alerted everyone to his presence wherever he was in the house, and calling his name would bring a frantic pattering of paws before he burst into the scene. Every evening he would be there curled in the crook of an arm or in the warmest part of a lap, or playing with Kamila on the floor. The pair had been inseparable from day one. She had often walked into her daughters room to find the little black shadow on guard beside her crib. Strangely it was a comfort knowing he was there to watch over her, no matter how many times the toddler had pulled too eagerly on his tail and ears.

And yet the were things about Sissel that would always be a mystery to her. His size was the main one, in fact Alma was certain he had not grown an inch from the day he had arrived. Jowd had taken him to a vet and explained that Sissel suffered from a strange form of dwarfism, that he would stay perpetually petite, but other than that he was perfectly healthy. 

Alma wasn't so sure; she considered that his diet might have something to do with it. She couldn't work out if he was just a picky eater or if there was something more serious going on, but she never saw him eat anything. Right now there was a bowl of dry food sitting in the kitchen and Alma knew that if she went in there now it would still be full and untouched. It was the same with everything she offered him, he would turn down value canned food and pricey gourmet treats alike until Jowd returned, whereupon is dish would be polished clean next time she looked (even then she never actually saw him eating, now that she thought about it). Maybe Sissel suffered from some form of abandonment and went off his food without Jowd around. Jowd was the man who had saved him, given him a home and tended to his well being after all. Alma knew how alone she felt without her husband there, but she hadn't imagined a pet could feel the same way.

Nevertheless this thought made her scoop Sissel up into her arms, holding his tiny body close. He continued to purr with gusto, the vibrations working their way up her arms and through her chest. She couldn't understand how a cat so small could purr so loudly.

He felt cold, another oddity which she could not explain. Jowd said he just had poor circulation, and perhaps he had just been outside despite being dry. He was always a chilly little thing, but it never seemed to bother him. It bothered her though. She wanted to be a good owner; a good parent even to the little creature. He was special and precious and he brought so much joy to all their lives, but that unique quality made him difficult to cater to the way one would a normal cat. She just wanted to know that she was doing the right things for him, taking care of him the way a good parent would.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there sedately petting the cat's head before she noticed how quiet it was. In fact once she realised she strained to hear the sounds which had been bombarding her earlier. 

The wind had died down, the rain had stopped assaulting the windows, and that ferocious rumble above had faded to a faint grumble. In the void they left the sounds of the house crept back in; a world of order and calm so carefully constructed by its inhabitants. At last it was calm. The storm had passed.

And still Sissel purred at a steady timbre, a precious link to that secure world.

They said cats and dogs helped people live longer by relaxing their owners, but had Sissel really known exactly what she needed? For someone to be there to distract her from her selfish fears? She'd been so busy thinking about him, wondering if as an owner she was taking care of him well enough, that she'd completely missed the storm passing right overhead and how much it scared her. 

Smiling Alma bundled the cat close and rubbed her face into his fur gratefully.  
"Sissel...thank you." She mumbled softly. The little creature said nothing, his purring not dipping for a second as he rubbed his face affectionately against hers.

The phone ringing snapped her back to the real world, and instinctively she grabbed at it to quell the jarring noise.  
"Hello?"  
"Hey, it's me."

He didn't even have to say a name. Alma could recognise that voice in a heartbeat, its gruff but gentle tone as natural to her ear as her own voice. No pet names; between them they never needed such things to identify one another from everyone else.  
"And how is the Nations Best Detective doing?" She asked back, unfolding her legs to stretch. How long had she been coiled up like a spring; her legs ached and protested while Sissel re-arranged himself.  
"Both bored and possibly boring to everyone under the delusion that I have anything interesting to tell them." Jowd replied with a sigh. "Been stuck in lectures most of the day and then forced to interact with others at all moments in between. Just managed to peel myself away before the brain turns to mush."  
"Sounds utterly dreadful." Alma chuckled.  
"Aren't they all. Thankfully Cabanela is happy to soak up all the excess attention, giving me some free time to escape. I just wanted to check in to see that you were alright."

There was weight to his tone; that wasn't a general statement of husband-like concern. Alma smiled to herself as she petted Sissel with her free hand. Jowd must have seen a weather report somewhere; seen the storm warnings from their hometown.  
"Everything is fine. No word from Kamila's slumber party so I will assume she's eating her body weight in sweets and telling ghost stories."  
There was the slightest sound from the other end of the line. The tiniest throaty chuckle of private amusement.  
"And all is fine here too." She continued. "In fact I have a dear little gentleman in black to keep me company."  
Again she could just hear Jowd's smile over the phone.  
"I should have guessed." He said fondly.  
"So you'd better hurry home soon or he'll be taking your place as chief wife support."  
"I'll bear that terrifying thought in mind."  
"But really everything is fine. Miss you lots but the cat helps."  
There was a slight pause at the end of the line, but Alma could have sworn she heard Jowd say something under his breath.  
"What did you say?" She enquired.  
"Ergh...it's not important. Just happy that you're ok. We'll check out first thing tomorrow morning. Cabs said something about having coffee with us tomorrow. Are you fine with that?"  
Alma hummed in an pleased fashion.  
"Of course! It will be nice to hear some voices other than my own. Regardless of his other merits that is one area where you have Sissel beaten."  
Another short pause followed by a chuckle.  
"I suppose you are right. It is good to know where I stand in the pecking order."

On her lap the cat stared up intently, his yellow eyes concealing his emotions and thoughts behind their brilliance. A little black enigma in a bright red neck scarf.  
"Don't fret dear," Alma soothed with a playful, patronising edge to her tone, "So long as you can handle a can opener you will always be top dog in this household. All the same..."

She paused as she looked down at Sissel and moved her hand to scratch behind his ears. The feline responded by closing his eyes peacefully blocking off the only portal, no matter how mysterious, into his soul. He laid his head down onto her legs and purred and purred. Alma conceded might never realise all the secrets this little creature held; what understanding he had of the world he slipped through like a friendly shadow, and where he felt he stood in the 'pecking order' of their lives. But if there was one thing she did know it was this;

"...I am so glad that Sissel is a part of our family."


	2. Cabanela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Contains spoilers for Ghost Trick ending*
> 
> A series of short stories post new timeline showing snapshots of Sissel's life with the rest of the cast. Each chapter will feature a different cast member giving insight into their relationship with him and what effect he has had on their lives.

Detective Cabanela didn't like cats.

Though perhaps that was too harsh a statement to make off the bat, perhaps unfair to brand a whole species as unpleasant in this manner. Perhaps he was just more preferential to dogs. Dogs were loyal, friendly, social and easy to read. Dogs were often simple but capable of much love and loyalty towards creatures outside their species. They could often reflect the best parts of society and human nature through their devotion and energy.

On the flip side cats were solitary, sly, secretive. Aloof, arrogant, as though aware they had once been revered as gods. It was clear they were just using human companionship for an easy ride, idolised by simple minds and pampered into a smug stupor. Their large almond shaped eyes, flicking tails and silent paws gave The detective a lot to distrust. They sided more closely with the nastier side of society summing up all the aspects of human nature Cabanela disliked. 

And yet when he explained this to people (two people in particular) they would laugh heartily.

"Maybe you see too much of yourself in them. It's too close for comfort" One had remarked, bull headed as always, and Cabanela has sulked about it for a week at LEAST. 

He? A Cat? Never! 

Cats were not loyal and hard working. No! These were attributes of the faithful hound. The noble retriever. The honest labrador. The determined terrier. Yes, this animal suited his spirit perfectly. No time for felines and their primping and preening. The thrill of the chase, of doing your best, of loving life and all within. That was the model he aspired to and admired the canine for. Such wonderful creatures were dogs.

But going back, regrettably, to the previous contention. Perhaps it was not ALL cats he mistrusted. Perhaps, it was just one.

A small one. A minor blip in the universe. A little black smudge on a flawless white expanse of life. But however small a smudge on a field of white it will stand out like a drop of fresh blood on snow. A single letter in bold font on pristine paper.

Sissel was his name. 

Cabanela always believed he was above jealousy. The knowledge of being a super special snowflake automatically infers that such simplistic emotions are pitiful and childish. After all he was Detective Cabanela; a man of the law and snazzy dresser extraordinaire. Top of the department with a string of successes to his name. A man to be feared and admired! Come on now; jealous of a cat of all things? A house pet; lowly stray taken into the warm embrace of the Jowd family as a charity case. This is no thing for an intelligent human to feel threatened by. 

And yet there seemed no way to describe the uncomfortable twitch he felt seeing that...thing...in his dear friends' home. Seeing it curled in Jowds arm, snuggling up to Alma on the couch, playing with Kamila on the floor. The sneaking shadow that appeared from nowhere and made any place his dwelling as though he belonged, natural and neat as the cogs in a watch.

Even now, as the detective took another sip of his glass of wine, he watched the cat suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. Both moggie and his mistress, Jowd's precious little Kamila, sat peacefully before the television watching some documentary about, what else, big cats. Now those cats Cabanela could appreciate. Still shifty but big and exotic (If he were a cat, let him be a dazzling snow leopard) and more importantly were thousands of miles away from here.

Sissel on the other hand (other paw?) was close. Too close for comfort. His very being was like a hot iron being held near the face radiating foul memories, associations and (dare he admit it) guilt.

After all Sissel had come from somewhere. A somewhere Cabamela longed to forget. A place in the past where brash youth and over determination and carelessness had led to his greatest failing. A failing that had seen a criminal escape, a little girl held hostage, and his dearest friend injured. 

He, the great Cabanela, had messed up. It had almost cost him dear, a stain on his otherwise flawless record, and worse, knowing that a bullet from HIS own gun had crippled his friend. The barrel held to the temple of an innocent little girl.

And Jowd. His wonderful, patient friend. He had covered for him. The superb detective rookie wizz kid Cabanela had to be COVERED for, his gun slipped from the crime scene, evidence deferred. And worse it was by his best friend who had done nothing but be the good officer he was always destined to be. It wasn't just a stain on his trademark white coat; it was a smudge on Jowd for having to lie to cover for him. Wounds heal and bones knit over time but a bruise to a good man's record would take years to gently tend and cover.

Then through all the smoke and anger and pain one little dark shape had emerged untainted. The gaul of knowing his own white coat had to bear the shameful grime of failure while the black imp was spotless stuck like a pincushion in Cabanela's throat. Sissel was a constant reminder of that day in the park and all the feelings attached to it. It made him sick.

Of course he could never tell Jowd this. The creature played to Jowd's gentle heart, injured like he at the scene of the crime and carried tenderly in the arms of a scared young girl. Jowd had taken the beast from the child and promised to care for him, and it was so EASY. Just like that the cat had done in seconds what Cabanela had spent YEARS perfecting and evolving; a way into the warmth of the Jowd Family.

Huh. Perhaps it was jealousy after all. How stupid. He shook his head to dislodge the silly thoughts unnoticed by his companions on the living room carpet.

Cabanela wasn't often called upon as a babysitter. It wasn't a skill set he much cared to develop and the Jowd family were the only ones he knew who had children anyway. But once in a blue moon both parents would be occupied and needed an extra set of hands. Now that Kamila was old enough for her mother not to be worried about leaving her the need for another adult on the end of a phone line seemed more prevalent and helpful. He was happy to do this; Kamila was a model child (when not building her extraordinary, house overtaking contraptions) who in all honesty was more than capable of looking after herself. The child could already cook her own meals, finish her homework, securely lock up the house and entertain herself without supervision. Really Cabanela was just there as peace of mind as the girl was still barely six years old.

Cats didn't watch tv, surely, but Sissel's bright eyes never left the set. Occasionally his companion would indicate a tiger yawning or leopard prowling, declaring how similar they were, and the cat would respond with a high pitched little mewl. Responding to her observations? Surely not. More like trying to get food.

Eventually the shows credits ran and Cabanela stretched his graceful arms high above his head.  
"Okaaay princess, it's that time of night again. Teeth brushing, stat!"

The girl hopped to her feet without protest (such an obliging child) and scampered away to prepare for bed, trademark yellow hair ribbon bobbing playfully as she went. The detective was left alone with the little black imp.

If he had a say in the matter the cat would be put outside at night where he belonged, Cabanela thought bitterly. A shadow amongst shadows; put out with the trash so he couldn't watch the precious family sleep from the darkened top of a wardrobe. But Jowd was such a bleeding heart. Had Cabanela known his friend had such a soft spot for animals he would have bought him a chinchilla long ago. There was something different about Sissel though. Between the general affection and playful interaction common with any house pet there seemed to be an unspoken bond between the mountainous detective and the petit feline. Cabanela has SEEN it. Times when Jowd would be sitting with cat in arms and he seemed completely away with the fairies. It would often take a few tries to drag him back into conversations in the real world, apparently interrupting the man from a discussion with the unseen. 

What was it about Sissel that was so special? What was Jowd seeing that Cabanela wasn't? It was a mystery that many would dismiss as a strange character trait, but Cabanela preferred mysteries to be investigated, solved, categorised. Moreso when it involved a dear friend. Having that creature in the house had changed Jowd somehow and he wanted to know why.

Losing interest in the tv the cat turned and yawned showing a flash of vicious teeth. However far removed from his jungle ancestors some traits still remained, Cabanela mused, as the cat padded over to the sofa and hopped up at the far end. Cabanela would allow this, so long as the cat stayed at his end of the sofa. Ignoring the general distaste he had towards the feline there was also the jet black hair and possible dirty paws combined with pristine white trousers and coat. Yet another reason Cabanela was made uneasy when he stepped into the Jowd home (uneasy in his best friends' home?! Appalling! But black cat hair was still a possible threat on every surface.). 

Sissel turned a few times on a cushion before settling down, tail neatly covering his tiny paws. But instead of going to sleep, he then fixed the detective with a stare. His brilliant yellow eyes staring directly into Cabanela's own.  
Cabanela, stubbon to a flaw, glared back.

What was it that made you special, kitty cat? What kind of magic spell do you have my friend under? What's your game? The great detective Cabanela was not about to be out-cooled by a cat, so his glare softened to an enigmatic smile.  
"Penny for your thooougts?" He chuckled. Sissel's expression didn't change. He continued his blank stare into the man eyes, and Cabanela couldn't help but shift a little uncomfortably.  
"Well? If you think staring at me will make me back away you are wrooong little one." He cooed, his expression not faltering. Had he not been deep in thought over how much Sissel irked him it might have laughed at how this creature was getting to him. Why now? Jowd had owned the cat for a while but tonight it chose to catch him alone and stare like this? Nothing odd about that, least of all from a cat. No no, that was just natural! You saw it all the time...surely...cat owners would agree, right?

Don't look away.

Cabanela had perfected the skill of maintaining eye contact, one in an array of experienced detective skills, and he was proud of that fact. It was but one tool but often far more effective than your average baton. Striking fear into the suspicious criminal mind, the ultimate way to draw out liars, a brilliant weapon in the art of interrogation.

...and what a lot of good had it done him.

The thought, complete with sarcastic sneer, hit him hard. A punch to his heart and memories equally. His skills were great indeed. Developed to peer into the soul and make them tell him everything he wanted to hear. EVERYTHING he WANTED to hear. Greatly effective, greatly intimidating, greatly terrorising. Part of an arsenal, just like a gun left casually on a table.

Don't look away. 

He felt a tinkle of shock run up his spine, the faintest trickle of sweat weaving its way down his face. The yellow eyes held him in place as the room around him suddenly felt very cold. Echoes of desperate cries and pleading bit at the corners of his hearing. The black pupils set in their pools of yellow looks startlingly familiar for a second.

He fought a disgusted shudder which sought to give him away. What the hell did this cat know anyway? Why the hell was he even here? Oh yes, he was a pity case and the remnants of a disastrous debacle which almost cost precious lives. ....but it was in the past! Burried in paperwork. The guilty behind bars. Forgotten!

Cabanela remembered. Gods he wished he didn't.

Don't look away.

He was suddenly aware of a presence by his arm which made him jolt in alarm. Yet it was only Kamila, her innocent face outstanding amongst the ghosts which haunted Cabanelas' mind. Ribbon removed, bundled in nightgown and tiny housecoat with matching slippers (a rich gift from her adoring mother). How long had she been standing there? The little black devil had been teaching her his stealthy ways, no doubt. The child smiled angelically and turned her gaze to Sissel, who's own expression had not changed.

"He likes you!"

Still a little shaken from mental warfare, and startled from her sudden materialisation, Cabanela could only stare at her bewildered as he tried to process her words. They cut through the heavy air like sleek scissors through silk.  
"S...sorry?"  
"He likes you!" The child repeated cheerily, leaning on the armrest of the sofa, "Sissel only stares at people he really likes."

This repeated revelation, in few words, was so alien to Cabanela that for a while he was completely silent, looking from girl to cat slowly as though trying to reboot his magnificent mind.  
"Is...that sooo?" He managed, even slipping back into his familiar drawl. Kamila, seeming unaware of how affecting her words had been, nodded firmly.  
"Yep! He stares at Daddy and Mommy and me all the time, like he's really understanding what we say. But he only stares at people he likes. If strangers come to the house he will just ignore them. Right Sissel?"

The cat finally broke its gaze to mewl a response. It should have been enough to break the spell but Cabanela still felt floored by this new intel. No. Surely this was pure innocence on Kamila's part (bless the dear seraphim for trying to cast out his demons). After all what could the cat see in him though those black pits of eyes if not guilt and dismissal? He had no idea what the cat knew from that day, but it was enough that Cabanela knew he'd been there; in that portion of history he was so ashamed of. How sad to be pitied by an animal, even indirectly.

But Kamila was unfazed.  
"He must really like you best." She said, a slight edge to her voice (...was that envy? Say it ain't so!), "The only person he stares at like that is daddy. Daddy says it's because Sissel is VERY polite and he likes to make eye contact when he talks to people. He talks to daddy a lot. But only daddy can understand him. Can you understand him Uncle Cabanela?"

For a while there was only the thudding tick of the clock on the wall to mark the passing minutes. Cabanela stared into space trying to process the details, read between the lines, dissect the innocent meandering from this child's mouth. All the while Kamila stood patiently and Sissel returned to his fixed gaze. Could there really be more to it? More to that pitch black stare darker than night? A star glinting on the horizon and a dawn of a new realization? 

Recover, reform, reassure. Cabanela smiled brilliantly at the child with an elegant flick of his hand.  
"Sadly not, baaaby. I guess your daddy is unique!" Oh gods, understatement of the year right there. "He will be forever stuck listening to how our furry friend prefers tuna over sardines, and his deep set psychological fears of the vacuuuuum cleaner."

That made her laugh. The girls musical giggle, more alike her mother than she would ever realise, broke some of the tension floating in the air. Hopping round her sitter's lanky legs Kamila bent over to scratch Sissel behind the ears, to which the creature purred with great gusto.  
"Good night Sissel!" She chirped, Sissel mewling in response, before turning to place a tiny kiss on Cabanela's cheek. "Good night Uncle Cabanela." She added, but then she lent in with a hand partially covering her mouth. Cabanela, recognising the intention, leaned his ear in close to her so she could whisper. He was well aware that Sissel probably heard her clear as day, but it didn't matter.

"You would tell me if Sissel said anything to you about me, right?"  
"Sure I would baaaby!" Cabanela drawled with a wink as he sat back on the sofa, "But I'm telling you, I don't understand your cat at all."

The child seemed satisfied nevertheless, scampering off to her room with a further couple of 'good nights'. Cabanela heard the door click shut on the upstairs landing. Finally alone for good (bad dreams or boogieman scares not withstanding) he turned his attentions back to Sissel, the cat's purrs still softly going despite the absence of his mistress.

So. What did all this mean? What had changed? Cabanela wasn't really sure, there had been quite a bit of information to absorb even in the short period of time. Or he have been completely misinterpreting the gaze this creature gave him from the start? Had his own self imposed guilt warped the meaning from something completely innocent? Could it be less about judgement, coldness, but instead a sign of....respect maybe? He usually wasn't one to trust anyone's word over his own, but dear Kamila wasn't just anybody. Who knew this creature better than a member of the Jowd family? 

....the Jowd family. Jowd, Alma and Kamila...and Sissel.

Of course.

Had he been alone Cabanela would have thrown his head back and roared with laughter. The sudden realisation hit him like a train with an illuminating explosion in his brain and soul. How foolish he had been! Of course! Sissel was part of Jowd's family and what did that make him? A misunderstood, easily misread enigma! Where else would you find such a pack of secretive individuals whose particular quirks the average man might find cold or negative? Who better to be part of their lovely little world than this creature of unknown origins? How better to try and understand this cat than through the family he had made his own? Sissel wasn't an omen. He was sent to be a part of their strange dynamic. He was more ally than spy.

It was not himself and his failures he saw reflected in the cat's very being. It was Jowd. That patient, secretly amused and deep pair of eyes. His friends eyes that he could stare at forever and never fully comprehend. And that changed everything.

If Cabanela was good at anything, it was adapting.

Carefully, scarcely believing himself, Cabanela stretched an arm forward. He placed his long, elegant palm on Sissel's head, fingers tucking around to behind the cat's ears. Funny, he had not imagined him to be so cold to the touch. But this was all a fairly alien experience to Cabanela and this was not the point to start questioning things. Instead he started to gently scratch that space behind the animal's ears the way he had so often seen the Jowds do it. When in Rome and all that. Sissel shuffled his way a little closer, just enough to get the best of Cabanela's reach but not too far as to overstay his welcome in the detective's protective bubble. The purrs rumbling deep from the tiny creatures chest seemed to fill the room, comforting in their consistency and warmth which belied his chilly exterior. 

The action and response felt....right. Like something Cabanela should had done a long time ago; something that had been waiting for him. There was something much deeper at play here. A mystery to be unravelled. However if his friendship with Jowd and his darling family were anything to go by then the reward for solving it would be worth it tenfold. And there was nothing this detective loved more than a challenge with great reward!

Cabanela smiled.  
"Like I said." He purred in his own melodious tones as he continued to tickle Sissel's ears, "I do not understaaand you at all."


End file.
